WHITE HOT
Earth is white and all around is darkness
Shapes of buildings rise, blocking in the dark
and down the road a traffic beacon
flashes grey to grey and grey
A white tree rises ghostly in the park, where
white grass glistens with the dark dew of morning
From Earth's core a fiery glow sustains
heat for growth and life
While a dark sun follows Earth's dark moon
across a daytime-black sky
filled with twinkling lights
Homes painted in many shades of grey
Line cheerless suburban streets
Inside the hearth is warm, heated from Earth's core
glowing white-hot. Our Earth, giving life
- Kate Jenkins
FEAR IS PRETTY BLACK AND WHITE
PART 1
The wind howls wild like a dog in the night. I feel my fingers shake. Each step, I crawl closer. Could this be a mistake? It’s only something small yet it looms aggressively in my eyes. I am climbing the mountain, most foul and most high. My feet collide with the crumbling dirt, agonising shards of winter rip through my shirt but on I walk up the slope to a place they call hope.
The wind howls wild like a dog in the night. I feel my fingers shake. Each step, I crawl closer. Could this be a mistake? It’s only something small yet it looms aggressively in my eyes. I am climbing the mountain, most foul and most high. My feet collide with the crumbling dirt, agonising shards of winter rip through my shirt but on I walk up the slope to a place they call hope.
There is a legend I am chasing, one
whispered long ago about a differentiation, a bright gap amidst the snow. I
remember reading the thought stashed at the back of my mind. Sketched so
clearly on paper in black and white. The legend temps me towards the light, so
up the mountain I must climb.
My boots are heavy and my breath ragged,
scaling up these perilous daggers yet climb I must. I thrust the next foot
forward, feeling my heart pound like a drum. All though the journeys not always
fair there's always room to run.
I am chasing a rumour called colour, it
sits at the very top and even through the snow I feel the streaks of tiny
colour blots and up there I ponder, a new way to see. Up the mountain high is
where I want to be. Living in colour, that is my objective and dream.
PART 2
His face was covered in lines as he walked
with stony steps. His mood reflected in the way he walked. Along the garden
path he would frown to all the flowers then carry on his way to the store. Cane
in hand, he was an older man who had lived his life well before. His eye brows
could sweep the street, posture impossibly unique and every day he walked,
creased faced to the park to pass the gate. One day he was traveling, his stony
steps routine and he happened past a shop window, freshly cleaned and gleaming.
A woman stood there smiling as she wiped the window down, he’d never felt his
face in any shape other than a frown. His brow began to lift like a hat removed
gracefully from a head. His eyebrows arched upwards and pushed the lines
towards his forehead. His nose rose steadily and his cheeks were crimson red,
rows of sparking teeth stretched under his happy smile. An experience he soon
wouldn’t forget. The man continued down the path feeling brighter in his step.
Seeing things beyond the frame he always found himself drawn in, his world
began to change and with every single step he felt a little better with every
day he kept.
- Nellie Toubon
WHAT IF?
What if the world is only black and white?
For some things, that would be alright
Pandas would still be super-cuddly
Zebras could still make a good buddy
Black labs, white sheep
Snow drifts so deep
That empty, blank canvas
That so enjoys to taunt us
But the blue of the sky
And the birds that fly high
Would be grey and boring
Would we even see them soaring?
At least if I dress
And try to impress
Everything would go together
Whether lace, wool or leather!
- Christine Philp
